The Secret of the Old Mill by Franklin W. Dixon Page B

“The whole business sounds suspicious—though the bill could have been passed accidentally.”
    â€œLet’s question Ken Blake,” Joe proposed.
    He and his brother housed the Sleuth, and the three boys started homeward. On the way they continued to speculate on the counterfeiting racket.
    â€œLet me know if I can help you detectives,” Tony said as he turned into his street.
    â€œWill do.”
    That evening, when it grew dark, Frank and Joe told their mother and aunt that they were going out to do some investigating. Before they left, the boys had a chance to speak to their father in private about Tony’s report of the counterfeit bill and green truck and their own hunches.
    Mr. Hardy agreed that the purchase of lumber and bricks seemed odd, but he felt that until more positive evidence could be obtained, it was best not to approach Elekton officials on the matter.
    â€œI guess you’re right, Dad,” said Frank. “We might be way off base.”
    The detective wished them luck on their sleuthing mission. The boys decided to make the trip in the Sleuth. They rode their motorcycles down to the boathouse, parked them, then climbed aboard the new boat. Joe took the wheel and soon the sleek craft was cutting across the bay toward the mouth of Willow River.
    When they entered it, Joe throttled down and carefully navigated the stream. Meanwhile, Frank shone his flashlight on the wooded banks.
    â€œThere’s the cave—ahead!” he whispered.
    Joe ran the boat astern a few yards and Frank dropped anchor. The brothers waded ashore, carrying their shoes and socks.
    When they reached the mouth of the cave, Joe said, “Let’s investigate this place first.”
    They went into the cave and moved forward to the tunnel. One glance told them that the tunnel had become impassable—it was filled with water.
    â€œMust have been the cloudburst,” said Frank, as they emerged from the cave. “We’ll have to wait until the ground dries out. At least we can take a look through the woods and the area around the mill for clues to the bowman.”
    Shielding the lenses of their flashlights, so that the light beams would not be easily detected by anyone lurking in the vicinity, the boys began a thorough search of the wooded section. As they worked their way noiselessly uphill among the trees, the only sound was the eerie rattling the wind made in the leaves and branches.
    Frank and Joe shone their lights beneath shrubs and rocks, and even crawled under some fallen trees. They found nothing suspicious. They were approaching the edge of the woods and could see the outline of the mill beyond. The old wheel creaked and rumbled.
    Suddenly Frank whispered hoarsely, “Look! Here’s something!”
    Joe joined his brother, and together they examined the leather object Frank had picked up.
    â€œAn archer’s finger guard,” he said.
    â€œIt may be a valuable clue to the arrow warning,” Joe said, as Frank pocketed the guard. “Let’s go up to the mill,” he proposed. “Maybe the men there have seen something suspicious.”
    As the boys crossed the clearing toward the gatehouse, they saw that it was in darkness.
    â€œProbably everyone has gone to bed,” Frank remarked.
    For a moment the brothers stood wondering what to do next. “Something’s missing,” Joe said in a puzzled voice. “I have it! The mill wheel has stopped turning.”
    â€œMaybe it was switched off for the night,” Frank observed.
    The boys were eager to question the occupants, but decided not to awaken them.
    â€œLet’s walk around the mill,” said Frank, “and look through the woods on the other side.”
    The boys had just passed the north corner of the building when, with a creaking groan, the wheel started to turn again.
    â€œThere must be something wrong with the mechanism,” Frank deduced. “The wheel